


Karaoke Night at The Green Man

by InimitableBiscuit



Series: Karoaoke Night at the Green Man [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Drink Spiking, Excessive Drinking, Karaoke, Language, Light Angst, M/M, POC Marcus Flint, Post Hogwarts AU, Scot! Oliver Wood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-08 13:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13459728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InimitableBiscuit/pseuds/InimitableBiscuit
Summary: Marcus has been single for six long weeks and the pub he's chosen to quietly drink himself to death in has suddenly decided to host a karaoke night. Well, fuck.





	1. New Beginnings Suck

**Author's Note:**

> I may have had too much fun with tags this time [innocent face]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mar's veiw

Marcus leaned casually on the bar of The Green Man and tapped two fingers on his empty whisky glass. Sadly he'd been here enough in the past month or so for the barman to know his usual order. He liked this pub, it was normally quietish but with plenty of monosyllabic locals who were good for the occasional game of pool in the back room. Despite being in a mainly white, working-class part of town he got no grief from the regulars, probably because the barman was blacker than him and the owner was a Chinese octogenarian who seemed to be running some kind of suspect dominoes casino upstairs. At the moment the old guy was enthusiastically supervising the setting up of a karaoke machine in the far corner. Marcus caught the barman's eye and gestured over with his glass  
"Jon, what's up with Xiu?".  
Jon grunted and rolled his eyes "It's all your fault" he said "Xiu decided that he wants more young people like you in so he's having monthly karaoke nights. He's roped my lad into bringing his team tonight for 'good advertising'"  
"Huh" muttered Marcus, slowly sipping some more whisky.

An hour or so later the infernal music machine was up and running. A couple of the regulars had had a go, including Geoff, the virtually mute angler, who had done a surprisingly melodic rendition of _The Sound of Silence_. In the lull Marcus noticed Xiu eyeing him up as the next victim. He very carefully turned his head away slightly, it wouldn't do to insult the old guy but he didn't think he could stand the embarrassment of public singing. The door suddenly banged open, causing everyone to do the _local stare_ at the new man until they realised it was Jim. Jim got nods.  
"Hey dad" he said as he settled next to Marcus at the bar "The lads are just coming, even managed to entice that cute new guy I was telling you about"  
Jon nodded "Well done lad", his brow wrinkled "New guy?" he asked. Jim rolled his eyes, making Marcus smirk into his glass.  
"Ye-es dad" he replied in a sing-song voice " _You_ know, cute, focused, probably out of my league but keeps checking out my butt in the changing room. Definitely _not_ straight."  


Marcus started to get the cold tendrils of fear creeping down his back as he stared at his drink. He turned his head slightly towards the younger man.  
"Jim? I'm Mar, new guy at the bar."  
The other lad grinned cheekily "Dad's told me about you" he said, accepting the proffered hand and shaking. Marcus raised his eyebrow at Jon who had the grace to look away slightly abashed.  
"Not every week someone gay, black and under 25 pitches up here and stays for more than one drink. You've been here more than at your own place for the last month" Jon finished, radiating parental concern. Embarrassed, Marcus frowned and looked down, that amber liquid was suddenly looking mighty interesting again. He shrugged off his discomfort and turned back to Jim.

"New guy?" he grunted. At the slender man's nod he carried on "Just over a month?" nod "light brown hair?" nod "complete all-rounder?" nod. Hoo boy, now for the biggie. "Most enthusiastic Scot you'll ever meet?" nod and grin "Shitballs" said Mar with feeling.  
Jim chuckled "I take it you're the one he's not over?" he asked.  
"Shit" said Marcus "I gotta move". He lifted the hand nursing the whisky glass but, before he could down the contents, the barman gently removed it from him.  
"Jon?!" he exclaimed but Jim put a hand on his arm and forced Mar's focus back towards him.  
"Hey Marcus, you don't need to leave, just maybe head up the far end of the bar. I'll do my best to keep him distracted with the rest of the team." The smaller man smiled as Mar nodded his assent and then stood. Leaning down to Jim's ear, he murmured "If you need to truly distract him, ask him why he never turned pro. You'll either shut him up completely or get a half hour rant depending on his mood." Marcus straightened and strolled along to where Jon had placed a full glass at the far end of the bar. It wasn't a moment too soon - as he sat down the door flew open and a bakers dozen of rowdy football players appeared, complete with a few girl/boyfriends in tow.  
"JIM!" came the universal cry.  
"Lads!" he called back, "Get your beers in, then we'll show 'em how karaoke's done!" 

The door banged shut and there he was. Slightly tousled hair, shy smile. Marcus' eyes slid slightly lower. Oh shit, was that what he thought it was? _oh shit_. A slight gap opened in the crowd, Oliver was wearing **THAT** shirt. He closed his eyes and swallowed as memories overwhelmed him. The shirt he'd bought for Ol two years ago that had been ripped off the footballer's body more times than he'd care to admit; the shirt that had stayed on when they'd fucked so many times because Marcus just couldn't resist Oliver in it. It wasn't much really, just a slightly form fitting, royal purple t-shirt with white piping on the sleeves and neckline. But once it was on, oh once it was on. Oliver's trim footballer's body turned into that of Adonis. All his ex had had to do was put on that shirt and raise his eyebrow and Marcus was gone. Every time they had gone out to one of his rugby team's nights out Ol had worn that goddamn t-shirt and they'd ended up fucking in the toilets or an alley or just gone home early. _Every. single. time._

Shit, Marcus was way too drunk for this. He looked down the bar slightly desperately and saw Jon pouring pints close by.  
"Jon, can I get a water?" he asked. Frowning, Jon didn't look up from his pouring but nodded. As the first pint was filled, the barman flipped up the next glass, dumped the first on the bar, and, using his free hand, flicked an empty one to Marcus, then passed him the soda hose. In less than five seconds he was fully focused on the pint at his tap again.  
"Cheers mate." Marcus said, impressed.  
The older man graced him with a nod "Stick it back on the hook when you're done".  
The rugby player did as instructed, then virtually downed his pint of water. He stood abruptly, suddenly dying for a slash and managed to get to the gents without embarrassing himself. After a long pee at the urinal, Marcus washed his hands and splashed his face. He felt the alcohol running through his system become slightly subdued as he studied himself in the mirror.

He didn't know what Ol had ever seen in him as he stared slightly bleary eyed at himself. Strong brow, strong jaw, lips slightly thin over wonky teeth (he'd chosen rugby over the brace the orthodontist had said he'd needed at fifteen) combined with his hulking frame made him look like a caveman. He kept his hair short because a caveman with a 'fro would just look ridiculous. Jim was wrong, Ol couldn't possibly miss him, it was only Mar that was pining. Here in the men's bog Marcus allowed himself to admit that maybe he was drinking a _smidge_ too much. Shit, okay, he was drinking to avoid their flat where _everything_ reminded him of Ol. He splashed his face again, sniffed and strode back out of the bar, pausing next to the karaoke stand where three of the elderly Go players were destroying _Stayin' Alive_. Marcus grinned suddenly, grabbed the clipboard and scrawled down two songs. Still smiling, he headed back to his stool for another pint of water while he waited to be called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stoopid sexy t-shirt make Mar's brain go boom.
> 
> BOOM!


	2. First Night Out Since The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ol's side

Ol wasn't sure about this _at all_. He'd finally said yes to Jim's month-long persistent badgering to come out with the rest of the team. Main problem was that the rest of the team were total nobbers apart from Jim, as evidenced by the fact that there'd been a compulsory round of shots in the ridiculously fancy-ass bar before The Green Man. 

He also, may, possibly not yet have dealt with his recent return to singledom given that he was only 6 weeks out of a six _year_ relationship and he still had no clue why Mar had kicked him out. After a fortnight of weepy sofa-surfing, Mar's cousin Jeri had installed him in her spare room, all the while berating her ungrateful baby cousin in her awesome Ghanaian accent. It was the catalyst Ol had needed - he went out that day and signed up to the local football team, met Jim at the next practice and felt right at home. Jim's open attentions hadn't hurt either and though the cute guy did have a beautiful butt, he just wasn't _quite_ Ol's type. Fuck it, drunk self honesty time - Ol didn't have a type, he'd had Marcus since he was 17 and he'd been in love with him since before he knew he was gay. For fuck sake, there was no _type_ , there was just a world divided into Marcus and _not Marcus_.

Hanging back in the crowd of team mates and assorted hangers-on, he closed his eyes briefly as they charged en-masse into The Green Man. He shouldn't have worn the fucking t-shirt, it just made him miss Mar even more. Right, time to face the music (please let him not be forced to sing dear lord), Ol caught the door as the last couple of people disappeared through it and followed.  
He blinked as the light and the crowd disoriented him.  
"Hey new guy, it's your round!" yelled someone - Wilf was it?  
Ol shook his head "Tha's not ma name and we ain't doin' rounds so no."  
Aw man, his accent was _definitely_ getting broader which meant more booze was a very poor idea.  
"Ollie, Ollie, Ollie, Oi! Oi! Oi!" came another yell from another bellend  
"Still no ma name Dec!" He called back.  
"Lad's lay off the new guy" shouted Jim "Sod off, get seats and line up for some songs."  
Muttering good-naturedly the crew wandered over to the scattered tables. Some headed back to buy drinks, while a few went up to the karaoke guy to check out his song list.

Jim beamed at Ol and waved him over to the barstool next to him.  
"Sorry about them" he said as Ol sat up. "Next time we could go out in Soho and leave these idiots behind."  
The Scot shook his head, wobbled and grabbed to bar to stay on his seat.  
"I dinnae it's so a good idea yet, 'sonly been six weeks."  
Jim frowned at him, considering the state of Ol.  
"Hang on half a tic mate" he said as he leapt off his paisley stool and charged the length of the bar before ducking under the flap at the far end. As Ol's eyes fuzzily tracked him, they spotted a large, dark figure at the end of the bar. Looming? Check. Head shape? Check. Ol couldn't really tell much else, his eyes seemed to have stopped functioning properly. The big black guy was leaning toward Jim - were they talking? Hmmm, the room was a bit spinny. Oh, and now his friend Jim was coming back. Yay! Oliver turned a fuzzy grin onto his ol' footie pal who laughed slightly and presented him with two packets of crisps and a couple of pints of water. Ol blinked

"Booze break" Jim said "How many shots _did_ you end up having?"  
Ol blinked again in question.  
"Miles _always_ goes to Shooters before coming here and _always_ gets at least one round of shots in. He then completely ignores the 'no bigotry' sign on the door here and gets banned for at least a month"  
Ol snorted at that and took a drink of water, god that was so much better. He tried to give a coherent reply.  
"Just one, umm, jaegerbomb is it?"  
Jim nodded.  
"Well it was fucking vile and I've never held shots well, think it tipped me over the edge. Thanks for the water man."  
They sat in silence people watching for a while until the sudden movement of the guy Ol had spotted earlier reminded him.  
"Jim" he asked slowly, crunching a crisp.  
"Mmm?" came the reply.  
"Who is that big bloke heading over to the gents?"  
"Oh, just some regular of Xiu's as far as I know. Him and dad get on quite well" said Jim casually.  
Ol frowned. "He _really_ reminds me of someone. Like they could be fucking doppelgangers. Or it could be _him_ but he really isn't the type to hang out in pubs by hisself"  
Jim smirked a little but Oliver missed the expression as he was occupied reaching for a crisp.  
"Well it probably isn't him then."  
"Yeah" answered Ol morosely. "I'm probably imagining it anyways. _Every_ huge black guy is getting a double-take still. I just want him out of my heid if he doesn't wan' me anymore y'know?"  
Jim was a good pal to be listening to this whining Ol thought. Jim snorted "Cheers mate, but I don't think you're whining." Ol blushed tomato red, he'd forgotten to internalise his drunk thoughts noooo!  
"C'mon, sit back and enjoy the sultry sounds of the BeeGees care of Liu, Joe and Oxford" Jim continued. The Scot grinned again and though he stayed a little pink around the cheeks he joined in laughing and commenting their way through the song. Jim was a good laugh and Ol got so distracted by the hilarious stories of the young guy's adventures as a cycle courier that he missed the Marcus look-a-like getting up to sing until Jim nudged him, grinning.  
"Looks like I'm not the only person to have noticed the hotness of you." He nodded towards the karaoke corner.  
Ol tried to focus - the song and the beautiful baritone voice were both achingly familiar. What was it? The sound swirled around him. He blinked back tears as memories came washing over him.  
"For fucks sake!" Roared a plummy voice.  
Ol jumped so hard he almost fell off the bar stool. The voice continued  
"I mean, how many poofs do I have to put up with in a normal pub?"  
The music abruptly stopped and Jon was round the bar in a hot second. He spoke clearly and loudly enough for everyone to hear.  
"Miles Bletchley, that is a six month ban and a report to the police for hate speech. Out. Now."  
Jim rolled his eyes  
"Come on mate, lets go rescue his girlfriend" and dragged Oliver over to the tables where Bletchley appeared to arguing furiously with a skinny girl with too much make-up and not enough clothes on.  
The song started up again and the Scot got his first proper look at the singer. He stopped, stunned. It _was_ Mar. It really was _Mar_. The only man he'd ever loved singing the song he's always said had been written specially for Ol.  
Mar noticed him and winked as he hit the chorus.  
"So if you start wearing purple, wearing purple, start wearing purple for me now..."

Ol stood staring until the song finished, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. He started to drift closer at the ending words but Mar lifted a hand to stop him, winking again as he spoke into the mic  
"I think you'll recognise this next one too babe" before launching into _What Would Bryan Boitano Do?_. Ol had never understood how Mar could make his voice _that_ dirty. Oh great, and now he was a blushing, crying, drunken mess and he was totally sporting a semi in the midst of his mostly straight team mates. Fuck. He could just not stop watching Marcus. _How_ had he turned up here? Why was he singing _their_ songs to him? Did he think it would make up for the six weeks of loneliness and heartbreak Ol had suffered? Fuck.

The song came to an end with a standing ovation and whooping from the football crowd. Marcus grinned, bowed, tossed the mic back to the compere and as suddenly as blinking he was in front of Ol.  
"Hey beautiful boy" came the deep voice he knew so well. "Care to have a drink with me?"  
The smaller man looked up at the other's face and suddenly saw the almost crippling fear in Mar's eyes as if waiting for rejection. Ol laughed slightly and wiped his eyes.  
"Yeah" he exhaled. "A drink, go on then, Ah migh' even talk t'you too." The stunned look of gratitude on Mar's face was priceless.  
"That is way more than I could hope for or deserve Ol, _thank you_."

As they turned toward the bar together the rugby player leaned down and spoke roughly into Oliver's ear  
"I'm sorry, I miss you, I love you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."  
The Scot choked back a half laugh, half sob as he headed for the end of the bar that Marcus had been sat at. Catching Jim's questioning eye as he passed, Ol shrugged and gave a small smile that his friend returned before turning back to consoling Miles' latest squeeze (Ol suspected that Jim was strongly recommending that she dump him).

Hopping up next to Marcus, he briefly closed his eyes to savour the sound of Finnegan, Thomas and Weasley somewhat enthusiastically belting out Kaiser Chiefs before he opened them again in time to see Jim's dad raise an enquiring eyebrow (clearly where his mate had learnt the expressive eyebrows from)  
"Jus' a lime an soda please."  
This got a quick smile and approving nod.  
"Jon, may I have a coke and a couple of packs of scampi fries to go with please?" came Mar's beautiful voice beside him "I'ma need caffeine for this."  
Jon snorted, surprising Ol.  
"Boy, you need about a third of a bottle less whisky inside you is what you need". The barman's voice was fond, fatherly almost. The footballer glanced sideways and saw Mar sporting his most embarrassed look.  
"Cheers mate, I've already had _that_ epiphany in the gents tonight."  
Jon outright laughed at that as he slapped the fries down next to the drinks and wandered off. Oliver frowned.  
"Don' ya have ta pay here?"  
Mar looked shifty "Urm, I've been giving him a fifty at the start of the night and he's been cutting me off when it's either spent or he's decided I've had enough."  
Ol was aghast. "How often have you been trying to drink yourself to death?"  
Mar closed his eyes, he obviously did not want to pursue this subject but he answered anyway.  
"Every night I don't play rugby for the past month."  
When he opened his eyes again and dared to look sideways Ol was still staring with his mouth open. Marcus snorted humourlessly.  
"Trust me, three or four nights a week getting quietly wrecked in a decent boozer is a whole fuckload better than what I was doing for the fortnight before"  
"Okay" said Ol simply. "So what happens now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes it is the early 00's here. Why? Because _What would Brian Boitano Do?_ is one of the greatest songs on the planet. FACT.
> 
> Also Gogol Bordello are great.


	3. Time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is Ol _so_ drunk?
> 
> Mar's view

"Okay" said Ol simply "so what happens now?"

Mar took a second glance, something wasn't quite right about how the Scot was holding himself - his eyes had gone glassy and he looked about five seconds away from sliding off his bar stool. The big man carefully put his arm around the smaller and pulled his chin gently so the other faced him.  
"Ol, babe" he started as quietly as he could over the music. "How many shots have you had?"  
"Eh?" Oliver tried to think. "One jaegerbomb I know about but a couple of the lads got me pints so who knows what was in there?"  
Mar felt the familiar rage building but fought to keep his focus on Ol and ignore the urge to go beat the shit out of the entire football team. He refocused, shit, Ol's head had started to loll. Shaking him gently, he felt the familiar need to sweep the Scot off his feet and hide him away from the world.  
"Babe, do you need a piss before I take you home?"  
Ol nodded against the shoulder that his head had flopped onto. Mar sighed slightly.  
"Okay, up you get my tiny Scot." He stood and gently pulled Oliver up with him.  
"M'not tiny, you'm jus' a giant" came the sleepy mutter.  
"Well I'll concede that point just this once" Mar smiled as he helped Ol into the gents. He kept the other upright as Oliver peed into the urinal before fumbling his jeans closed.  
"Okay Ahm done."  
"Alright, lets say bye to Jim and go home."  
Ol nodded and leaned more heavily against Mar's side as he was supported back out into the pub. Mar slowly got them to the end of the bar and parked an almost unconscious Ol next to Jim.  


"Jon can you call a cab please?" he asked. The barman nodded and wordlessly handed Mar a tenner.   
"Thanks mate". Jon nodded again and wandered off to the phone behind the bar. Mar turned to the younger black guy.  
"Jim, can you find out who shotbombed Ol's drinks and what the fuck was in them then text me what the shots were to Ol's phone please."  
Jim's face crinkled in concern   
"Sure, what's up? Will he be okay? He had a pint and a half of water with me, why's he _so_ wasted?"  
Marcus resigned himself to explaining the one thing he would never forget and never, _ever_ wished to repeat. Jim was a good guy, he'd understand.  
"When he was 16 and I was 17 we tried shots. I just had a stonking hangover. Ol ended up in high dependency for two days then spent a week in hospital recovering. Not only is he allergic to aniseed, his body tries to shut down if he drinks anything stronger than wine."  
"Oh shit mate, I'll find out asap." Jim was already on his feet, slender figure moving towards the rowdy group with a dancer's grace. A woman's voice cut through the noise making Mar jump. He turned, jostling the almost unconscious man in his arms.  
"Miles definitely only gave him the Jaeger but he was almost certainly the one behind the 'get the new guy paraletic' plan."   
Miles' girlfriend (?) was smiling nastily "I'm sure you'll keep that in mind _Marcus Flint_."  
Mar looked at her then, really looked, she smirked and suddenly her eyes glittered like a snake under the stylish black bob and artfully overdone make-up. It clicked.  
"Oh fucking hell, Pansy?! What are you even doing pretending to date a bottom feeder like Bletchley?"  
She smiled a genuine grin and winked. Mar knew from experience that it was hard for gangland bosses brats to go straight but, somehow, Pansy had aced her basic at Henley as well as her two years as a beat copper. He was pretty sure she was in the serious fraud squad as an undercover officer _but nothing was ever said out loud_  
"Shit, well I know nothing. Enjoy your night with Jim" and with that, he pulled a sagging Ol up and out into the night to where their taxi was just pulling up.

"The block of flats halfway along Milkgate Lane please mate" Marcus said as he angled Oliver carefully into the back of the black cab.  
"Ere, e's not gonna be sick in the back of my cab is he?" asked the cabbie eyeing Ol worriedly in his rear view mirror. The football player was slumped right into Marcus' lap, eyes shut.   
"Nah mate, he is weirdly never sick from booze. We'll be fine for the three minute journey."  
Mar tried a reassuring grin though from the looks of the cabbie's face it might have failed. The driver started off anyway for which Marcus was eternally grateful. He stroked Ol's light brown hair marvelling in the texture - how could hair that short and straight be so soft? He gently kissed the top of the other man's head and murmured   
"We'll get you sorted babe."  
Oliver sighed and snuggled in harder. 

The cab pulled up to a stop by Mar's building. He handed over a tenner, telling the cabbie to keep the change as he dragged the almost inert Scot out with him onto the pavement. He ended up pulling Ol into a fireman's lift for simplicity, there was a tiny murmur of protest as the barely conscious man flopped like a half filled sack of spuds over Marcus' back. He spared a brief moment of worry that he hadn't checked Ol's tongue and lips for a couple of minutes but reasoned that if he had drunk Sambuca Oliver would have been in an ambulance long before he got to Xiu's pub. The big man straightened, turned and marched toward the front door of his building.

It was a small block, just five floors and nine flats but Marcus owned the building and small orchard behind it thanks to his dad's combination of nefarious connections and a brilliant accountant. Dad had died in a turf war when he was 12 but he had always planned for a future without him in it. Mar had been able to keep attending Hogwarts all the way to A-levels followed by studying Sports Sci at university thanks to an educational trust fund. The massive inheritance that he'd gained access to at 21 on graduating Queen Mary's had been an extremely pleasant surprise. He'd used it to buy and renovate the flats before filling it with tenants he personally vetted. He loved this building, his tenants, his and Ol's flat on the ground floor but it had felt wrong for the past six weeks. It was one of the reasons he'd spent all his time out. The wrongness made him feel sick to his stomach. Bringing the Scot back, albeit semi-conscious and paralytic suddenly re-awoke the warm feeling of home that had been missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be 100% clear - NOTHING dub/non con will be occurring. Marcus is a decent human being.
> 
> I probably have another part but it just isn't finished and I'm happy with how this has come out so far so I've whacked it up as done.
> 
> Anyhoo, hope you've enjoyed it. Come scream at me on Fumblr
> 
> Edited to hopefully make the dialogue clearer. Dear lordi, why have I written _so much_ dialogue???


End file.
